


Seven to go

by castheangel666



Category: StarKid Productions RPF, The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: Aliens, Drugs, Heart Break, Homophobia, M/M, Military, Multi, Overdosing, Polyamory, Shooting, gay ppl, i think thats it?, tear gas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-15 17:53:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17533406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castheangel666/pseuds/castheangel666
Summary: What ever happened to Professor Hidgen's friends (or boyfriends oops)





	Seven to go

Professor Henry Hidgens was a lonely man. He longed for the days when he and his boyfriends, Greg, Steve, Stu, Mark, Leighton, and Chad, would play football together and sing drunkenly to musicals and just curl up together on one of their beds. As he looked at the blue shit, he smiled, remembering his partners. They were gone now. He was the only one left.

  
  


Greg had died in a car accident right after college. Henry could still remember the day he got the call.

 

“Hello?” His voice was bright and happy, not yet gone dull from boredom and grief.

 

“Is this Mr Henry Hidgens?” a clean, professional voice asked.

 

“Speaking.”   
  


“I’m very sorry to have to tell you this, but a friend of yours, Mr Gregory Roberts, has passed away. He was in a collision and died in the ambulance.”

 

Henry couldn’t remember what happened next, he probably thanked her and hung up, but soon he was sobbing while on the phone with Steve. Greg was gone. One down, six to go.

  
  


Leighton had died a mere few months after Greg. He died of a drug overdose.

 

Poor Leighton had always done things too much. If he was into Pokemon, he had to have every card. If he liked math, he had to be the best at math. And if he was going to do drugs, he had to be addicted.

 

It had been days since they’d seen him, so Henry and Stu went to check on him. 

 

“I’ll check the bathroom, you check the bedroom,” Stu had told his twink. 

 

Henry had agreed, anxiously searching the house until he heard Stu shout.

 

“Did you find him?” he asked, running down to see.

 

“Henry, don’t go in there,” Stu said, shakely, “I’m going to call the cops, don’t go in there.”

 

Henry couldn’t resist. He looked in. Leighton, pretty little Leighton, with fluffy blond hair and beautiful blue eyes, who was always there for everyone, lay on the floor. An empty syringe lay next to him. Henry broke into sobs, shaking his shoulder. 

 

“Leighton! Wake up, please! We need you! Not so soon, please, Leighton, please, wake up!”

 

Stu had to drag him away and they cried outside until the ambulance got there, but it was too late. Leighton was dead, died of a heroin overdose. Two down, five to go.

  
  


Mark was next to go, just when the pain from Leighton and Greg had started to fade. He was killed while out at the bar with Henry and Steve and Chad. Stu had to work.

 

**_BANG BANG BANG_ **

 

Gunshots rang through the club. A man was there, with a gun. Between them and the exits.

 

They ran for the bathroom. And Henry tripped. Because he might have been a trained dancer and all, but he was still clumsy as fuck.

 

“Henry!” Mark grabbed him and pulled him behind him. 

 

**_BANG_ **

 

They screamed. Mark went down. Steve and Chad dragged him into the bathroom.

 

“Oh god, oh god!” Henry cried, taking off his jacket and pressing it over the wound. “You idiot! Why would you do that?”

 

“Couldn’t let him hurt you!” Mark sobbed, “oh my god, it hurts!”   
  


Chad was on the phone, presumably calling 911, and Steve was holding the door shut.

 

“Do not fall asleep!” Henry begged, “Marky, please, don’t fall asleep!” 

 

“Splash water on his face!” 

 

Chad placed a cold cloth against his dying boyfriend’s head.

 

Mark was dipping in and out of consciousness. There were still gunshots from outside the bathroom.

 

“I love you,” Mark mumbled, “I love all of you so much.”

 

“No! Mark, stay with us!”

 

“Leighty? Greg?” Mark smiled softly and fell asleep. Henry kept on applying pressure, but it was clear; Mark was dead. Henry stared down at his hands in horror. They were covered in Mark’s blood, metaphorically and literally. Three down, four to go.

  
  


Stu was next, years later, while they were protesting for the right to get married. Tear-gas was sprayed out into the crowd. Henry gasped and keeled over, hardly noticing when Steve and Chad began to drag him away to an uninfected zone.

 

He was finally able to breath again once he coughed it all out, but he turned to his side and all the air was gone again. Stu was gasping for air and his other boyfriend’s frantically searching for an inhalor.

 

“Call an ambulance, Henry, Stu can’t breathe!” 

 

Henry wheezed into the phone frantically. Stu was unconscious. Steve started CPR.

 

“He’s not breathing and he’s unconscious, tell them about the tear gas!”

 

Henry repeated the information, trying not to cry.

 

The ambulance got there quickly, taking him straight (how ironic) to the hospital. Henry, Chad and Steve waited in the waiting room anxiously.

 

“Family of Stuart Peterson?” a young doctor called. He had a grim look and Henry felt his stomach sink.

 

“He’s gone. I’m so sorry. The asthma mixed with the tear gas took him too far to help him.”   
  


Chad collapsed against Henry and Steve.

 

“Those fuckers!” he screamed, “They killed him! Just because we wanted to get married!”

 

“I know, I know,” Henry hushed. He felt numb. It hadn’t hit him. Stu couldn’t die. Stu was big and strong and no… He couldn’t be dead. The doctor was wrong. 

 

It took him a whole week to finally accept it. Stu died of an asthma attack, brought on by tear gas at a gay rights protest. Four down, three to go.

  
  


Steve had wanted to be in the army ever since he was a little boy. He trained to be big and strong, just like Captain America. When he was eighteen, he enlisted. His first tour was when he was twenty. He met his boyfriends the same year. They loved and accepted the fact that he left for months at a time, but there were tears every time.

 

“Another one?” Henry’s grey eyes looked up at him sadly.

 

“Yeah. Only six months, in a low-threat area. I’ll barely even get shot at.”

 

Henry and Chad came to see him off. It was heartbreaking to see how few of them there were compared to his first one so many years ago.

 

_ Low-threat _ .  _ Only six months _ .  _ Barely get shot at _ . Henry and Chad kept their worries low remembering his words.

 

Then they got the letter. 

 

Henry fell into a chair and began to cry into his hands. Chad sat next to him and pulled him into his lap. Steve was shot protecting another officer. He was dead before the medics could get to him. He wasn’t coming home.

 

Chad and Henry cuddled up in bed and cried together that night. Steve was dead, shot and killed by the enemy thousands of miles away from everyone who loved him. Five down, two to go.

  
  


Chad phoned Henry at nine o’clock in the morning. 

 

“Hey, Chad,” Henry smiled his sweet little smile at the sound of his only remaining boyfriend’s voice. Chad sounded upset. “What’s wrong?”   
  


“Henry,” Chad took a breath, “I’m breaking up with you.”

 

“What?” Henry gasped in shock, “Why? What is it? What did I do? Please, Chad, I can’t lose you too.”   
  


“Honey, Greg, Leighton, Mark, Stu, and Steve all died. Either I’m going to die, or you’ll die next. I’m leaving before that can happen. I’ll be moved out of the apartment by tomorrow.”

 

Tears poured down Henry’s cheeks as he tried to accept what was being told to him.

 

“Please, Chad, I need you!”

 

“Goodbye, Henry. I love you.”   
  


Henry sobbed in despair into his hands. He didn’t have any family left and making friends had never been his strong suit. He had always had Chad, and now he was gone too. 

He screamed and wailed in agony, having no one to turn to now. Six done, one to go.

  
  


Thirty-two years later, when the aliens came in the form of Greg and Steve, Henry could have cried in relief. He missed them so much. He stroked Steve’s soft face. He loved them so much, even after all these years.. He sang with them and ran off with them. 

 

Then they ripped his stomach open as he screamed, but honestly? It hurt less than them leaving him had. 

 

He joined them happily. It was a choice. He loved them and he was okay with leaving the world if it meant he got to see them again.

 

Seven gone, none to go.


End file.
